


red and red and red

by ArgentLives



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Episode Tag, Episode: s02e06 Enter Zoom, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 17:58:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5595559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgentLives/pseuds/ArgentLives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He stares and he stares until he can’t look at it any longer, his stomach rolling and his mind reeling and still no word from Caitlin, which is never a good sign. How long has he been standing here? Somehow it feels like forever and not long at all, the mind-numbing panic at the back of his mind making it hard to really think. All things considered, it’s probably for the best.</p><p>[Cisco's thoughts and fears after Zoom nearly kills Barry and as Caitlin fights to keep their friend stable]</p>
            </blockquote>





	red and red and red

**Author's Note:**

> written for the prompt: barrisco + blood

STAR Labs is usually one of the tidiest places Cisco knows, mostly because Caitlin won’t allow anything else. She’s always on their case, scolding him for every candy wrapper he leaves lying around and rolling her eyes in exasperation at Barry when he tracks in mud from his suit after running in the rain. It’s always an easy clean up, though, with Barry around, speeding around the cortex and making sure the place is spick-and-span before the rest of them even have time to blink. 

Not right now, though. The floor might as well be painted red, and Caitlin’s not here to be upset about it, and Barry’s certainly not here to clean it up, because that’s _his_ blood, and there’s so goddamn much of it, and he’s currently lying unresponsive in a hospital bed while Caitlin struggles to keep him alive. Because he’s dying. _He’s dying_.

And Cisco is left staring down at the mess that Zoom left behind, feeling, not for the first time, completely and utterly useless. He closes his eyes but there’s still that pool of red staring back at him, the image burned at the back of his eyelids, and he’s absurdly reminded of the time he tripped over a wire and spilled that extra-large cherry slushie all over the ground—except this is so, so much worse.

He’d come back out here, to the main cortex, to breathe, because standing in the medical bay frozen in shock and horror while Barry’s heart stopped, and stopped, and stopped, wasn’t helping anyone. He’d only been getting in Caitlin’s way, and she’d finally had to order him in a clipped voice that clashed oddly with the tear tracks on her cheeks to _go_ , to call the others, to let them know. 

He stands staring down at the puddles of red, some of it already drying and crusting on the tile floor and fuck if that won’t be a bitch to clean out, and it kind of makes him sick just thinking about it, his phone clutched tightly in his hand but fingers making no move to dial any numbers. _Let them know what, exactly?_

That Barry is alive, but only just? That there’s still the very real chance that he might not be at any given moment? He certainly can’t tell them that he’ll be okay, not when he’s still trying to wrap his own head around the concept that for once, that might not actually be the case.

He stares and he stares until he can’t look at it any longer, his stomach rolling and his mind reeling and still no word from Caitlin, which is never a good sign. How long has he been standing here? Somehow it feels like forever and not long at all, the mind-numbing panic at the back of his mind making it hard to really think. All things considered, it’s probably for the best.

 _Clean up this mess, Cisco,_ he tells himself, finally forcing himself to move, _make yourself useful_. After all, if he looks at it any longer he’s sure he’ll be sick, his insides already squirming, stomach roiling at the thought of _whose_ blood that is and how it got there and what it might mean, and then he’ll have a whole other mess to clean up entirely. He fetches some cleaning supplies from the little closet Caitlin usually forbids anyone else from touching, making sure to bring along the bleach because the coppery smell hanging in the air is suffocating and it’s still making his head spin.

He falls to his knees next to the spreading stain of red, blocking out the sounds of Caitlin shuffling around, fighting to keep Barry’s vitals stable, in the distance, and forces himself to get a grip. The blood seeps into his jeans but he can’t bring himself to care, tunneling all his focus on making it _go away_ and fighting not to gag. He scrubs and he cleans until the bleach burns his nose and makes him feel light-headed, until the floor is spotless and the only evidence left of what went down, of Barry’s blood, is all over him. 

It’s on his clothes, it’s under his fingernails, it’s somehow everywhere and he can’t fucking get away, and it’s just as he’s observing the ugly red on his shaking hands that the click of Caitlin’s heels draws his attention upward, and he scrambles to his feet only to find that it’s all over her, too. She looks tired and miserable and there’s a smear of red across her cheek, all over her coat and her arms and so, so much of it and—

“He’s stable,” she manages, sounding just as haggard as she looks. Her eyes flick down to the now-clean floor, and then to the state of Cisco’s clothes, and her mouth tightens and something like understanding softens in her eyes, but she doesn’t mention it. “It—it was really bad. It’s still really bad, but he’ll be okay. He’ll be okay.” 

She says the last part with more conviction, sounding like she’s trying to convince herself, but even though her voice shakes and threatens to crack Cisco feels like he can breathe for the first time in—however long it’s been. _He’ll be okay_ , he repeats in his mind, over and over and over again, letting the words wash over him and ease the panic in his chest. _He’s going to be okay_.

Iris and Joe show up soon after, and he only vaguely realizes he never actually got around to calling them, but he’s still too numb with shock and horror and just the hopeful beginnings of relief that he can’t bring himself to feel guilty. They would’ve shown up, either way.

He follows them into the room where lays, still unconscious and looking like hell but _breathing_ , and if he’s crying a little (a lot) by the time his trembling fingers are ghosting over a wound that should’ve been fatal and then resting over Barry’s beating heart, too slow for him, for what it should be, but still there, well. He doesn’t think the others will hold it against him.

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on my [tumblr](http://lesbianlaurellance.tumblr.com/)


End file.
